Ya Tabya Lyublyu, I Think
by GrasperGroupie
Summary: A few of the Allies hit up a bar after a meeting. Arthur wants nothing to do with the insistent Frenchmen, and everything to do with a certain Russian. Rated for sex, sex, cursing  courtesy of Arthur of course  and more sex.


_This happens to be my very first APH fic… and it's a crack pairing. I have come to the conclusion, however, that I don't give a fuck. I love Ivan and Arthur together, albeit it might just be for personal reasons, but it's still cute. So, read on if you are still interested._

_Translastions…. Because I am in no way fluent in Russian, though I wish I was._

_Dorogaya moya – my dear_

_Zaychik moy – my bunny_

_Ya tabya lyublyu – I love you_

It was always surprising how much and how fast clothing came off when the Brit had even the slightest amount of alcohol in him. Even more surprising was the way the other nations continued to suggest hitting a bar after meetings or conferences; ignoring the amount of times they had been thrown out or altogether banned from bars, pubs and clubs around the world on account of Arthur's behavior. In fact, Los Angeles and Amsterdam were definite no-fly zones.

On this particular night, the crowd was limited to just the Allies, minus an exhausted Yao, who had just flown in from a different meeting in Norway and promptly made his way to a hotel for the night after the conference. Ludwig and Feliciano had made a lame excuse to make an early get-away, and from the way Germany had grabbed the Italian's hand and sped up slightly, one could only assume that a dark hotel room was the end destination. Kiku, on the other hand, had a flight ready to leave and a meeting with his boss the next morning, and had excused himself with a polite bow and apology. Nobody could blame him for wanting to leave as soon as possible; in fact they all would have loved to be leaving the cold, dreary Soviet nation; but many of their bosses preferred they wait and sit out the snow storm.

Therefore, a bar run was in order. And bypassing the lined-up queue at the entrance to The Hungry Duck had been easy with Ivan leading the party. Inside, the party had already started; consisting of topless women already dancing on the bar and on the floor, and plenty of alcohol flowing. Upon finding a table along a back wall, Arthur had already disappeared into the crowd on his way to the bar, returning in a huff complaining about the selection; apparently vodka hadn't been very high on his list of approved alcohol.

Despite the intolerable burn, Arthur was already on his sixth glass of vodka within the hour. Alfred had taken to the nearest stripper pole, effectively distracting Francis from Arthur, and the Brit was thankful to be out from under the prying eyes, roaming hands and annoying accent. Francis had been taking an interest in closely examining the guitar tattoo adorning Arthur's right hip, when Alfred had saved the day. Yes, he was three sheets to the wind, and yes he had shed his shirt, tie and was on his way to unbuckling his pants; but that was no excuse to fraternize with the enemy.

Besides, there was a much taller, much more Russian member of their group that Arthur had taken an interest in many years before, and he would of much preferred spending his night in the Communist nation's company.

He just had to convince Ivan to take him home before Francis saw the opportunity and ran with it. Luckily, Alfred seemed willing to take one for the team, as a quick glance towards the pole showed Arthur a side of Alfred he had never seen before; there was a half-naked America gyrating to a Russian song on a stripper pole with about three women trying to touch him, and Francis watched with what looked like genuine interest.

Still, Arthur _had _to get Ivan's attention somehow, and an idea struck him like a ton of bricks, leaving him wondering why the hell he hadn't thought of it in the first place.

Arthur had just began to climb up on top of the table with the intent to out-do Alfred's pole dance, empty glass in hand, when Ivan returned from the bar with not glasses, but two bottles of vodka. Setting the bottles down, he reached out just in time to prevent a sloshed Arthur from falling to the floor, where he would most likely have landed in a pile of vomit and who-knows-what-else.

"Ah, careful, Arthur," Ivan gently reminded, having to almost scream over the music, as he eased the Brit into his seat. "Perhaps you have had enough already," he added, but didn't object when Arthur slumped over the table and halfway into his lap to grab a new bottle.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Arthur slurred, but frowned when he realized he didn't know how to open the bottle. He tried to bite the cap off, when Ivan chuckled and reached for the bottle's neck, his fingers brushing against the Englishmen's hand. Ivan twisted the cap off and handed the bottle back to the waiting man, only after taking a test drink for himself.

"Arthur, I believe you are intoxicated." Ivan commented, as Arthur tilted his head back and almost chugged a good portion of liquid. The fire sensation had dulled a long time ago, and now was just starting to feel warm.

Intoxicated or not, Arthur was not about to be out-done by the nation he had once raised, and he was intent upon out-dancing him and somehow ending up in the Russian's lap by the end of the night.

"I'm alright, you git," Arthur stumbled over his words, and began trying to climb on top of the table again, "That bleedin' American doesn't deserve to get all the attention," the blonde laughed when he slid, but hoisted himself up onto the table after a little help from Ivan.

After all, Ivan couldn't just sit back and let his ally fall to the floor and be trampled. No, that would be horrible camaraderie. Besides, he realized he was slightly curious as to how the Englishmen planned to command attention. Twisting open the other vodka bottle, he settled into his chair and turned his attention to the drunk nation in front of him.

Arthur tried to steady himself on the table, and listened to the beat of the Russian pop song, not sure how to dance to something with words he didn't understand. Luckily, the song changed and a more familiar beat played, something Arthur happened to be very familiar with, a song called "Pour Some Sugar on Me". He could definitely work with that.

Ivan was thoroughly amused. Arthur's hip movements and head tosses did catch his attention, and if he didn't know better, he would have assumed Arthur was trying to flirt.

Was he flirting?

The blonde was definitely making the kind of eye contact one only makes when one wants to be naked with someone. And every time he licked the rim of his bottle after taking a drink… well, it spoke for itself.

Oh yes, Ivan was very amused. He almost forgot about the vodka he was holding in the midst of everything, but it was already half empty anyways. Ivan was far more interested in finding out just what this British gentlemen's true intentions were than in consuming more alcohol.

Those intentions were made a little clearer during the second chorus, when Arthur crawled across the table, vodka bottle empty and forgotten. He unwrapped the scarf from around Ivan's neck and leaned in to within an inch of his ear, and spoke along with the song; "I'm hot, sticky sweet, from my head to my feet," and returned to his dancing, leaving a laughing and clapping Ivan in his wake.

Ever since the Cold War, when his former colony had been in something of an argument with the Soviet nation, Arthur had been amused by Ivan. As much as he loved Alfred like a father would love a son, something was exciting about a nation that would challenge America. Arthur was also, at the time, still a bit hurt by the Revolution, and the idea of having a public relationship with the enemy seemed like an exciting indirect way to say "fuck you". However, over the years following the war, what had started out as simple amusement and intrigue turned into a strange sexual attraction.

Alfred suddenly appeared by his side while Arthur was swinging his hips and wrapping the beige scarf around his neck. Looking confused, he had already forgotten his quest to out-dance the former colony. Alfred yelled something in his ear and jabbed a thumb at the four nearly naked women now occupying the stripper pole, making a disgusted face.

Suddenly, Arthur understood completely why he had left.

The idea of dancing half-naked with the same person he had raised should have sent off a "creepy" flag in Arthur's mind, but being as inebriated as he was at the time, anything sounded like a good idea.

And "anything" suddenly included laying flat on his back while the American poured shots down his chest and attempted to lick it clean. This, however, didn't last long, and Alfred ended up being dragged laughing and blushing into the Frenchmen's lap. Arthur was grateful not to be Francis' target for the night, and turned his attention back to the Russian.

The song changed again, one that began with spoken words, then propelled into an industrial beat and lyrics sang by Alana Beaton. The song choice was perfect for the mood; appropriately titled "Fuck Like a Star", Arthur decided; as he carefully pulled himself to his knees, moving with the music and making eye contact with his subject again.

Arthur had the smiling Russian's full attention again; as the Brit mouthed along to the words, moving closer and closer to the edge of the table, until both legs were dangling on either side of Ivan. To test the waters, Arthur left a feather-light kiss to his watcher's lips, not expecting the large hands to take him by the waist and set him in the lap of the Soviet nation. Despite the warm hands now traveling up Arthur's sides, he didn't miss a beat, pressing his lips to Ivan's ear again.

" 'She's had a thrill, a shot to slam, enough to start a riot, everybody wants a piece but only you're invited'," Arthur sang along, making special emphasis on the final line. Ivan chuckled in his ear, hands now exploring Arthur's bare chest. He made note of how adorable the blonde looked wearing his long scarf, before unwinding it and letting it hang loosely from Arthur's neck.

"This is a pleasant surprise, Arthur," Ivan commented, as the Englishmen left obvious bite marks down his neck, "I had always assumed you to be in favor of a more, ah, _French_ persuasion." He added. Arthur rolled his eyes dramatically.

"That bleedin' smelly frog would go to anyone with a hole," Arthur replied, and gestured to the side, where Francis was, indeed, trying to shove his hands down Alfred's pants. "I prefer to be in the company of someone a little more modest. Less chance of disease that way," Arthur continued, and lightly gasped when two fingers closed over a nipple, pinching gently.

"Ivan, I may want you, but I refuse to have sex in a bloody _bar, _for Christ's sake." Arthur objected. Ivan smiled back, un-phased.

"But you do want to? I had assumed as much, judging by that _lovely _display a minute ago," Ivan replied, and stroked a hand across Arthur's cheek. Arthur glared, and guided two large, warm fingers into his mouth, sucking around and between them and taking them fully into his mouth before releasing them.

"I would prefer if you didn't bloody fucking toy with me," Arthur suggested.

Ivan pressed his mouth against his partner's in response, a searing kiss hot enough to melt the storm raging outside. Arthur, hoping he wouldn't be heard above the music, whimpered and wrapped both arms around Ivan's neck. Moving closer to the larger man, it was then that he noticed something equally as large pressing against his leg. The music changed again before the pair separated, a thin string of saliva leaving a trail and popping against Arthur's bottom lip. Arthur's face had already been flushed from the alcohol, but now a new shade of pink covered his cheeks.

"I will; how you say; _toy _with you all I want, _dorogaya moya._" Ivan insisted, with the same smiling face. "We could return to my house, _da_? If you do not wish to become one here," he added. Arthur twitched.

"Don't call it that," he replied. Ivan laughed, already shifting to stand up.

Arthur struggled to get to his feet with help from the Russian, than began glancing around in search of his shirt. Ivan reached down and wound his scarf back around the Brit's neck, also handing him his white dress shirt and tie. Arthur looked confused for a second, before he shrugged the shirt back on and attempted to button it. He didn't even try to tie the tie, but shoved it into his pocket. He turned to locate any unfinished alcohol, and caught eyes with Alfred instead, who winked. Arthur rolled his eyes, just as Ivan waved a hand in their party's direction, then lead Arthur behind him out the door and into the freezing night.

"Bloody hell," Arthur cursed, hugging himself. No sooner than his complaint, a car pulled up to the curb and Ivan pulled open a door, extending a hand to Arthur. The Brit stumbled in his drunken state, grabbing the outstretched hand and allowing Ivan to help him into the back seat of a lavish, highly luxurious car. Ivan followed, closed the door and spoke some Russian directions to the driver, before a privacy screen separated the front and back seat.

The ride from the bar to Ivan's estate was relatively quick, but the task of getting a drunk Arthur from the car to the door; much less up a flight of stairs and to a bedroom door; proved a bit difficult, even for Ivan. The fact that Arthur insisted on stopping by the kitchen for another bottle of vodka was a hindrance as well, and trying to walk a still-drinking Arthur up the stairs became such an issue that Ivan ended up carrying the drunkard bridal-style up the stairs and around the corner, to a large bedroom. Ivan had barely finished shutting the door, when the blonde had pressed himself against him and pulled Ivan down to his level for another kiss.

"Slow down, _zaychik moy,_" Ivan chuckled, prying the bottle from Arthur's hand and setting it on a nearby table. Arthur reached after it, when his wrist was seized by the Russian's large hand. "We have plenty of time." Ivan continued, and brought Arthur's wrist to his lips, gently kissing it.

"Don't do this to me, Ivan." Arthur pleaded, craning his neck to catch another kiss. Ivan pushed his partner against the wall next to them, nudging his knee between the blonde's legs as he began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Don't do what, little Britannia?" Ivan smirked, nudging the shirt off Arthur's shoulders. As cute as it was on him, Ivan unwrapped the scarf and let it drop to the floor as well. Arthur sighed, face flushed, and grabbed desperately to Ivan's coat to steady himself. Ivan kissed his neck, leaving a heated trail down the side, still awaiting a reply from the smaller nation.

"We both know what we want," Arthur gasped at a more harsh bite to his neck, "It would make much more sense if, you would just," he paused again, lightly yelping when a nipple was nudged by a large thumb, "Ivan, just fuck me," the blonde finally choked out.

"Little one," Ivan paused, placing a kiss to Arthur's swollen and bruised lips, "I cannot just take you right away," he added. Arthur tried to cross his arms in an angry huff, but the second he let go of Ivan's coat, he began teetering to the side.

"Why the bloody fuck not? I'm willing, if that's what you're worried about, you bleedin' Commie!" Arthur slurred the words together as they came out in an attempt to sound angry, clutching to his lover's coat again. Ivan tapped his nose lightly, deciding to ignore the political insult.

"You are very small, _dorogaya moya, _it would be horrible of me to just _take you _without proper preperation." He explained, and hoisted the drunken, blushing mess that was Arthur into another bridal carry, depositing him onto a fluffy bedspread. Arthur sunk into the plushy surface, settling in for a minute before crawling his way to the other side, where his Russian lover was kicking off his boots, having already shed his long coat. Taking a chance at dominance, the blonde wrapped both arms around Ivan's waist, lips attacking the bare neck. Ivan let Arthur have his way for a minute, until he was able to rid himself of his boots.

"Arthur," Ivan smirked, taking the Brit's hands in his own and shifting, now pressing the blushing Englishmen to the bedspread, "Just who do you think is in charge here," he continued, and placed a kiss to the blushing cheeks, "_Nobody _tries to invade Russia, and gets away with it, _da_?" Ivan reminded, silencing whatever smart remark Arthur had with a more demanding kiss. There was no fight for dominance when tongues clashed together; Arthur surrendered right away and let Ivan explore his mouth, whining in disappointment when Ivan pulled back.

"Ha," he exclaimed, an expression of delight on his face, "I _thought_ I felt something back at the bar," Ivan explained, and it took Arthur a few seconds to realize he meant his tongue ring, "A tattoo, a tongue ring… are there any more, ah, _surprises_ you have been hiding from us, little Britannia?" Ivan asked, tracing a finger over the neck of the guitar tattoo.

"I don't know, Ivan, the seventies were a hell of a decade, I could have tattoos on parts of my body that I just haven't seen yet." Arthur replied, getting a bit snappy due to the lack of sex that was going on, "And yes, I only wear my tongue ring when I'm not on official business, now are we going to fuck or are we going to sit here half naked chit-chatting?" Arthur fumed, lower lip sticking out in a slight pout. Ivan covered his pouting partner's lips with his own again, a low moan escaping his throat.

"I do enjoy it when my partner is a bit feisty," Ivan said against Arthur's lips. Arthur replied with a bite to Ivan's bottom lip.

"Just take me already, Ivan. Just bloody take me." He demanded, tangling his fingers through ashen hair and pulling the Russian closer, crushing their lips together. Ivan didn't argue this time, but moved his lips with his lover's, eventually nipping his bottom lip to demand entrance.

Arthur felt a large hand caress his inner thigh through the fabric of his slacks, and unconsciously arched his back into the touch. A moan Arthur had no idea he had been holding back escaped when that hand closed over the front zipper of his pants, pulling it down slowly and deliberately.

"It seems," Ivan broke their kiss, choosing instead to kiss along Arthur's jaw line, "That your clothing are just getting in the way, _da_?" Ivan asked, not expecting an answer, and continued leaving kisses down the side of Arthur's neck, finally reaching his chest. Ivan's hand worked the button on his partner's pants, while his mouth attacked a nipple, noticing that parts of his skin still tasted a bit like vodka from where the American had been licking it off earlier that night.

It had been way too long, Arthur knew that, and if Ivan intended to just tease the hell out of him rather than just get the job done… he knew he would explode, both figuratively and literally. If those fingers continued to rub and toy with his penis through his boxers, this whole thing would be over before it even started.

"Ivan," Arthur choked, trying not to moan and talk at the same time, "I said don't bloody tease me," he reminded, fingers still tangled in a large chunk of Ivan's hair. Arthur heard a chuckle, then felt a warm hand snake into his boxers and wrap around what Arthur liked to refer to as Big Ben.

"Little one, if you believe this to be teasing, then you have a lot to learn about my way of romance in the future," Ivan stated, and began moving lower, the same childlike smile still plastered on his face. Arthur couldn't ignore the way he said 'in the future', and almost commented on it, when suddenly both of Ivan's hands were nudging Arthur's pants and boxers off. Arthur completely forgot what he had intended to say when Ivan's hand closed around his penis, slowly beginning to massage. Arthur's hips jerked forward, trying to quicken the pace, but Ivan's other hand now pressing lightly down on his stomach discouraged movement.

"You are too eager, little Britannia." Ivan pointed out, still using slow and deliberate motions, thumbing the slit where pre-cum was gathering.

"Yes, well it's been a while, and if you keep up like this, I'm sure I won't last," Arthur replied. Maybe it was all the alcohol, or maybe it was how close Ivan's mouth was getting to his penis, but Arthur was beginning to see through clouded vision.

Ivan never responded to his last comment, just hummed in his throat and took the head of his lover's penis into his mouth, testing the blonde's reaction. Arthur's hands left Ivan's ashen hair, finding their way fisted in the bedspread.

It had really been way too long for Arthur.

Ivan lifted his mouth from his partner, massaging and pumping the throbbing organ while finding little spots on Arthur's inner thighs to bite and kiss at. A disappointed Arthur whimpered, wanting Ivan's mouth over him again. Ivan chuckled, mumbling a "So eager," and licked from the base to the tip, before finally taking the whole thing into his mouth. He sucked lightly, swirling his tongue around the skin, before releasing it and gently licking from base to tip again, this time truly teasing.

"I-ivan, don't," Arthur whined, twisting the sheets in his hands and arching his back.

"What is it that you want, my love?" the Russian asked, a bit of a sing-song in his voice. Arthur whined, biting his bottom lip as Ivan thumbed the slit again.

'_You bloody know what I want, dammit,' _Arthur thought, desperate for release.

"You know what I want, you bloody wanker," Arthur replied, trying to sound like he didn't _need _it as much as he really did. Ivan gave one last lick, before ordering Arthur to roll onto his stomach.

"On your knees, Arthur." Ivan corrected, watching as the needy blonde rose to his knees, head down and arms folded to his side. He felt those warm hands begin to explore, and heard what he assumed was a satisfied hum. A solid slap was made to his ass, followed by a firm grasp, and causing the smaller nation to whine in anticipation. Ivan pried one of Arthur's arms from by his side, and guided two of Arthur's fingers into his own mouth, chuckling at a surprised but obedient Arthur.

"As I mentioned, we will need to prepare you, little one," Ivan hinted, "And I would enjoy if you were to do it yourself." He added, his normally childlike voice suddenly bearing a darker tone. Arthur understood, a bright blush raping his cheeks, as he removed his fingers from his mouth and reached around. It was embarrassing, letting another watch him touch himself that way, but for the man he had fantasized about for years, anything was reasonable.

"So obedient," Ivan purred, as his lover began probing himself. Arthur squinted his eyes closed, feeling tears in his eyes when he pushed the second finger in, trying to stretch himself. He wished Ivan would do it himself, longing to be filled with _anything, _but willing to do whatever it took and obey whatever command the Russian wanted.

Ivan never took his eyes from the blonde, even when he eased himself off the edge of the bed to shed his pants and boxers. The Englishmen was beautiful, especially since the pained face had finally turned into what looked like enjoyment. Arthur began moaning lightly, pushing his fingers in and out of himself, scissoring them as best as he could. Ivan could tell when he was well enough prepared, and took hold of Arthur's hand, silently telling him to stop. The blonde whined in disappointment, blush still heavy on his face.

"Move," Ivan insisted, gently pulling the blonde by the legs until they dangled over the edge of the bed. "I want to watch you," he stated, rolling Arthur onto his back and hoisting his legs onto his shoulder. "Now, tell me what you want, love," he requested, hands roaming Arthur's thighs. Blushing, Arthur reached and pulled him closer for a slow kiss.

"Just fuck me, Ivan. Please." Arthur barely whispered against his lover's lips, and left a bite to his bottom lip before Ivan moved back, a lustful smile on his face. He couldn't ignore a plea as desperate and honest as that.

It was at that moment that Arthur really noticed the Russian; when he _really _noticed his body, every scar and muscle, and blushed deeper when he noticed Ivan's size. He was very proportionate to the rest of his body, and Arthur was beginning to wonder and hope that he had prepared himself enough. He had no time to wonder, however, as he felt the very tip of his lover entering him slowly.

"Don't move. It will only hurt more." Ivan stated. Arthur bit his lip to suppress the cry he wanted to release when Ivan moved even slightly, taking his time until he had fully entered.

It was extremely difficult for Ivan to stop and consider letting Arthur adjust. The blonde had bitten his lip hard enough to draw a bead of blood that was pooling on his bottom lip, and Ivan couldn't resist leaning down and leaving a kiss on Arthur's lips, kissing the bead away.

"Relax, _dorogaya moya, _it will pass," Ivan advised, and began to move against him slightly. Arthur nodded, holding back his whimpers and tried to just focus on examining his lover's body.

Scars adorned Ivan's chest from his collar bone down, some tiny and shallow and others that looked as though they had been stitched closed. Others had tried and failed to take the Soviet nation for their own, and the many scars proved this point. Arthur ignored the pain as Ivan began moving slightly faster, noticing a larger scar that stretched from Ivan's left collar bone, across where his heart would have been, and finally ending just above his belly button. It looked like it would have had the chance to kill if it hadn't been properly dressed, and Arthur wanted to ask about it sometime when he wasn't spread-eagled under the man as he penetrated him again and again.

Arthur didn't notice exactly when his pained whimpers began turning into pleas for more, nor did he notice or care that the large hands griping his hips would most likely be leaving bruises the next morning. His voice began growing louder and louder each time Ivan entered him, and his hands desperately reached out for something to grasp, when Ivan suddenly eased out of him. Arthur's eyebrows furrowed in disappointment, and he lifted his hips in a silent plea for more, but Ivan shook his head.

"Roll over," he ordered. Arthur pushed himself up and rolled over onto his back; flopping more than rolling due to his intoxicated state; and shyly looked over his shoulder. He was greeted with Ivan's lustful violet eyes and smile, before warm hands closed over his hip bones and a warm, welcome heat entered him again.

"So tight, my little Britannia," Ivan praised, rolling his hips against his panting lover.

"Because you're, _mmm,_ bloody huge, you d-damn git," Arthur replied, trying to speak through his moans and whines. Ivan hummed in satisfaction, running a hand up Arthur's back to gently fist in his blonde hair. Ivan gave a rough thrust in response to Arthur's remark, and leaned down so his lips barely grazed his ear lobe.

"Such language, Arthur. I like when you fight back," Ivan stated in his ear, and gave another harsh thrust, longing to hear the moaning cry he was sure to receive.

"Just, _ahh, _fuck me, dammit!" Arthur replied, squinting his eyes closed as a mixture of pleasure and a tiny stab of pain due to the size of his lover overcame him. Ivan chuckled, leaving a kiss to the side of Arthur's face, and moved back to continue thrusting and rolling his hips.

Ivan's hands gripped the milky white hips of his lover, controlling their movements for the most part. He admired the way their bodies felt joined together; the _heat _and softness of Arthur's skin, and the searing heat inside of him that was beginning to drive the Russian crazy. He tried to roll his hips in different ways, searching for a spot to make the blonde scream; all the while enjoying every wanton noise, every motion he was making.

Reaching towards his front, Ivan took hold of Arthur's leaking erection, toying with it lightly and squeezing every once in a while, just to drive him crazy with pleasure. In the midst of his fondling, Arthur suddenly arched his back and let a wild moan escape his throat, letting Ivan know he had found his internal sweet spot. Ivan slowed, positioning himself to hit that very spot every time until he thought Arthur would explode with pleasure, and pulled away again.

"Why… dammit, don't fucking stop," Arthur demanded, glaring over his shoulder and leaning against his lover, encouraging him to continue. Ivan crawled onto his bed, laying on his back against the menagerie of pillows. Suddenly, Arthur understood, and crawled across to meet him, straddling him. Arthur reached back, found his target, and lowered himself onto his lover, almost instantly moaning in pleasure again.

"You learn fast, love." Ivan praised, closing his hands around Arthur's already bruising hips as he began to slightly move.

The heat and friction between them built up again, Arthur's voice probably carrying down the hallways. Luckily Ivan's sister had been out of the country, or else Ivan would have had some serious explaining and pleading for his life to be done the next morning.

Through half-lidded eyes, Arthur could just barely make out the image of his Russian lover in the dark of the room. Arthur couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or the pure ecstasy, but he suddenly couldn't hold himself up any longer, and collapsed onto his partner, panting and still moaning each and every time he was entered. Arthur could barely make out the puffy outline of the nasty scar he had noticed earlier, and left a light kiss over it between his cries.

Ivan felt the kiss over his heart, and sighed in content, finally releasing his hold on Arthur's hips to slowly run his hands up the blonde's back. He tried to roll his hips and find Arthur's favorite spot again, taking his time to explore thoroughly, before the man above him suddenly tossed his head back and cried, tears in his eyes.

"Is that it?" Ivan asked, beginning to moan and sigh with Arthur. The blonde leaned into Ivan's thrusts, his movements being answer enough. Ivan's hand closed over his lover's penis, trying to keep time with their movements, and it didn't take long before Arthur tensed and yelled a mixture of curses and his partner's name, releasing between them. Arthur melted into his lover, kissing along his neck and nipping at his earlobe.

"Come inside me, Ivan," he whispered into his ear, breathlessly. He continued to nibble and suck on the man's earlobe until Ivan produced a loud moan and released inside his lover, riding it out with a few more thrusts, before becoming still, gasping.

Everything was quiet for a good minute, save for gasping and attempts to calm racing hearts. Arthur let Ivan pull out of him, smiling when a strong, muscled arm circled him from behind. Ivan left soft kisses to Arthur's neck, coaxing him into turning his head to catch his lips with his own, a long and lazy kiss following.

Arthur relaxed against his lover, ready to either fall asleep or pass out; he wasn't sure which it was; when he remembered something.

"Ivan,"

"Hm?" the Russian responded with a kiss to his shoulder.

"That scar, the one on your chest, over your heart," Arthur began. Ivan seemed to understand right away, interrupting him in mid sentence.

"1917. The Imperial Family." Ivan explained. Silence followed, as Arthur realized exactly what he had meant. The Romanov family had been very dear to Ivan, he knew this, and he wondered why he hadn't made the connection sooner. The alcohol must have been to blame. Arthur moved as best as he could to face Ivan, resting his head in the crook of his neck.

"I'm sorry," Arthur began, already starting to pass out. Ivan hugged the smaller nation closer to him, leaving a kiss on the top of his head. He nudged the blankets and sheets down and pulled them over himself and his partner, knowing they would definitely need to be washed come morning. Arthur's breathing became even, and Ivan pushed back a section of his bangs to kiss his forehead.

"I think…" Ivan began, reconsidering his words, "_Ya tabya lyublyu,_" he finished. Arthur's eyes slightly opened, tired and needing sleep.

"What?" he softly asked, "I don't bloody understand that gibberish, Ivan," he added, with a lot less conviction then he would have had if he were sober. Ivan chuckled.

"You will figure it out." He replied, and gave Arthur a final kiss before he let him fall asleep against him.

THE END.


End file.
